As if
by Zoe Montrose
Summary: As if I like that bastard. As if I want that bastard to like me! (T because I am paranoid and Lovino's mouth; Human names)


**((Hi this is just a little drabble about Lovino totally not liking Antonio~**

**I don't own Hetalia, sadly...))**

I can't put my finger on what has woken me in the first place. Maybe it was the light rain drizzling against the roof of my old house, maybe the dryness of my throat that comes with drowning yourself in cheap alcohol. Maybe even my own mind telling me to 'get a grip, stupid idiot, this is ridiculous!'.

Like I said, I don't know. What I do know, however, is that it is damn good I have been woken from that stupid-ass dream! …Or so I tell myself, because really, if I admit enjoying the (although not real) feeling of soft but slightly chapped lips on my neck and calloused but gentle hands on my chest, then I'd have to admit that I like the person whom those lips and hands belong to and we all know that that's just plain stupid because why would I ever like that idiot that way anyway?!

It is kind of creepy that my mind seems to remember his lips and hands and… urgh… _everything _well enough to make his touch this real in my dream. It's just because he hangs around me that much and I'm forced to look at him that I know all those details! Not because I've been staring…! Dammit! Why should I stare?

With a huff and a roll of my eyes I nod, satisfied with my explanation to myself and take another drag of my cigar. (Because seriously cigarettes are disgusting like who'd even smoke that shit?!)

I know that I should try and go back to sleep, there is a World Meeting tomorrow, but I can't bring myself to care even in the slightest bit. Feliciano will be there anyway and one representative of a Nation is enough. But let's face it, no matter how cute and adorable my brother is, he also is a stupid dipshit so I have to go as well to take notes. Yeah. Because of that. Not because Antonio will be there. Yeah…

Briefly I wonder if he ever had this kind of dream about me. In the next second I cringe and pull a face, a curse slipping past my lips and into the silence around me. The alcohol must still be in my system to make stupid thoughts like this enter my mind. Why would the bastard ever dream about me like that? Why should I want him to?! I scoff and stub the cigar out on the bottom of my shoe, returning the rest of it into its box and standing up from my spot on the porch. I place the box on above the fireplace in the living room, my touch lingering on the cold metal, my eyes observing the dark room. So many memories of 'family-reunions', as the bunch of idiots I'm forced to hang around, calls it. Ever since I moved out of Spain's house to live on my own he had insisted of at least one meeting in my house where Feliciano, Antonio and I would spend time together. Occasionally one of us would bring someone with them.

Of course in Feliciano's case that is the stupid potato sucking bastard and it takes him quite a lot of pleading and puppy dog eyes and general Feliciano-being to make me allow this asshole into my house. Antonio sometimes brings Belle with him. Or Francis. Which always makes the worst meetings. I have never brought anybody. Who is there to bring anyway? My (most important) people are already there after all. Not that I'd ever tell them, my stupid fratello would most likely never stop squealing and Antonio would be grinning like the idiot he is. Well he's always grinning anyway. Way too happy, that bastard! And it's not like I like his smiles and notice them or love them of anything. Nope. They are just stupid ass smiles after all. Everybody can smile! Yeah Antonio you are nothing special!

…And although those reunions usually end in me running a headache and kicking those two, or three, or four people out, they are my favourite kind of meetings.

I let a little smile graze my lips, after all, nobody is there to witness it.

But the topic 'meeting' brings me back out of my memory and back to the present and the thought of 'Holy shit it's 4:35am I have to go to bed if I want to survive tomorrow's I-can-scream-the-fucking-loudest-about-stupid-things-of-the-past-contest.'

So I lazily make my way back to my bed, snuggle into my tomato pillow which was a present of Antonio and which I only kept and cuddle with because it is _tomato-shaped_ and throwing things which are tomato-shaped away is like throwing away a new born!

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, relaxing and forcing myself to erase the dream from before from my memory. Still when I fall asleep and there are warm, sun kissed arms greeting me in my dream and soft but chapped lips on my neck I can't bring myself to stop the tiny smile.

((Please review and tell me if I should write a next chapter :D Nice day/night~))


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